


moonlight sonata

by nonbinarywithaknife (littleboxes)



Series: me sobbing about critical role [113]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crushes, F/M, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, Light Angst, Lowkey Yearning, Stream of Consciousness, light sad, wow i don't think i've ever used that tag before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 01:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxes/pseuds/nonbinarywithaknife
Summary: "when i was in that prison cell..., for the first few days, i- i was kind of attracted to him... i just saw him one night, sort of, trying to look out the window, the moonlight was hitting his face, and- he was very handsome"
Relationships: Nott & Caleb Widogast, Nott/Caleb Widogast
Series: me sobbing about critical role [113]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1266866
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	moonlight sonata

**Author's Note:**

> it is 2am and i am,,, sleeby but here u go. insp by this art which is just huhhhhhhhhhhhhh very good: https://genderliquid.tumblr.com/post/189167393660/id-bluish-greyscale-digital-art-of-nott-and

nott is sitting in a jail cell. she’s been sitting here for, oh, two days? three? the straw neither softens the floor nor conserves heat, and there’s not much else to do but stare at the wall. and think. which is awful.

what use is thinking anyway? thinking about luc, about yeza. why bother thinking about things she can’t have? things that will only bring her pain?

nott is sitting on the floor of a jail cell, and her arms are wrapped around her knees, and there is a draft, and she is staring at a wall and trying not to think.

and then her staring is interrupted by the body of a man being thrown into the cell next to hers.

the guards don’t even bother taunting him. they just toss him in, lock the door, and walk away. better than what she’d gotten, but then- she’s a goblin. a monster, a thief. she’s lucky they didn’t execute her on sight.

if he wasn’t groaning quietly in pain, she’d mistake him for a pile of rags. for a minute, he stays there, prone on the ground. she wonders if he’s more injured than he looks, if she should call the guards. wonders if they’d even respond. (they wouldn’t).

but then he moves. sits up. he has dirty hair and a dirty beard, and his clothes are ragged. she wonders if his hair is actually brown or if it’s just the mud. wants to ask. but he hasn’t noticed her yet, and she’s selfish.

it’s been so long since she’s been in the company of anyone who wasn’t a goblin. in the company of someone who didn’t hate her. she retreats to the furthest corner of her cell. she’s quiet, and practiced at making her breaths soundless. he doesn’t notice her.

nott sits on the floor of the cell and watches the man, and tries not to think.

he notices her the next day, of course. a guard drops food into her cell with a disgusted glare, and nott picks the meat from it. she hates that she doesn’t mind the taste. hates that she can’t eat vegetables anymore, hates that they feel stringy and tasteless on her tongue.

he stares at her while she eats. he doesn’t yell, which is nice. how low her standards have fallen. when did silent condemnation become a kindness?

she avoids his gaze.

(his eyes are blue. a shocking kind of blue. vibrant. unlike the grime that covers the rest of him, his eyes are clear and bright like the sky, and nott only catches a glimpse of them before he lies down to sleep. he faces the wall. she watches him shiver.)

nott thinks about how long it’s been since she’s seen eyes that aren’t bright yellow. or marked by the dullness death brings. so long. too long. nott sleeps poorly.)

she finishes her food and tells herself she isn’t hungry. she pushes the tray away, and glances at the man. he’s still looking at her. she looks away. and then- he speaks.

“what is your name?”

his voice is rough. scratchy. like he swallowed a handful of sand, or. like he hasn’t spoken in awhile.

nott looks at him warily, but there’s no malice in his expression. just- curiosity. curiosity and a deep tiredness.

“nott” she says. “the brave.”

nott the brave. it’s her own little joke. not pretty, not smart, not brave. and certainly not veth.

“it is… good to meet you, nott the brave” he says, and when he says her name he does it all in one breath. nott-the-brave. it makes nott feel- well. she doesn’t know. it doesn’t matter.

she starts to turn back towards the wall, but her food tray catches her eye. still half full. she carefully pushes it through the bars, into his cell. then scampers backwards and back into her corner.

the man looks at the tray, and then back up at her.

“my name is caleb. caleb widogast” he says. and then he starts to eat.

nott braids some of the straw and wishes she had a drink.

the day passes slowly, and quietly. the guard comes back and collects their trays. he sneers at her before he leaves.

neither of them speak. somehow, the night feels less cold.

the next morning, nott picks the meat from her tray and then pushes it into caleb’s cell. she’s perhaps more surprised than she should be when he pushes his half eaten tray towards her.

“i have never been much of a meat person” he says. 

nott hesitates, but. she is so hungry. she is so used to being hungry (hates how _familiar_ it is, being hungry). she takes the tray.

they eat in silence.

if she wasn’t a goblin, and if there weren’t a set of metal bars between them, she’d almost call it companionable.

it’s late evening when caleb snaps his fingers and suddenly, there’s a cat in his cell. the sudden sound startles her, but the cat even moreso.

“what the fuck-?” she says, moving closer.

it’s an orange cat, covered in stripes and fluffy fur. nott reaches a claw through the bars and pokes it before she can think better of it.

“what the _fuck_ ” she says again.

“this is frumpkin,” caleb says, and the cat- frumpkin, apparently, what kind of a name is that- nuzzles his leg. “he is my familiar”

“your what?”

“my- ah. i am, i can do, certain- things. _magic_. i have not- it has been, a, awhile. but frumpkin, he is. ah, he is a companion, you could say.”

nott stares at him. at the cat. the cat that had appeared from thin air. nott thinks about a hooded woman standing over her. thinks about magic.

“so is he- real?” she asks. caleb looks almost offended at her question, and her stomach drops.

“of course he is real, he is my cat” caleb says.

“i’ve never seen a cat come from nowhere before” nott replies.

caleb tells nott about the feywild. about wizard familiars, and ritual spells. he gestures with his hands and there is a spark in his eyes that makes her think of yeza in his lab.

she doesn’t understand most of it. but she understands that caleb is smart. has magic. can do- incredible things.

(makes the drafty nights lying on the thin straw, the cold stone, that much warmer. makes her feel less alone. less like the monster she is).

nott doesn’t sleep. she curls up in the corner, and her thoughts are filled with the screeches of goblins, the looming shadow of the hooded woman, the rush of water in her ears.

caleb is staring out of the window. apparently it’s a full moon tonight. she wonders how he knows. it’s not as if the window is actually big enough to give any sort of view. frumpkin is curled around his neck.

the sun gets lower and lower, and slowly, moonlight fills caleb’s cell. it’s not very much, but the thin strip illuminates his face. nott traces her eyes across his jaw, and feels a warmth in her stomach. she lets herself stare, for a few minutes.

eventually the moonlight moves away. nott tries to ignore the guilt that hovers in the back of her mind. veth was married. veth is dead. veth was married.

nott sits in the corner of a cold jail cell, and doesn’t sleep.


End file.
